


When You're Gone

by MagsyB



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-07
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagsyB/pseuds/MagsyB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What will it take to mend a broken friendship? And how long would it take for all the wounds to heal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Buried

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If thou who doth penned it forthwith shall contest my fancy of such dialogue, do bequeath upon me such mercy as thou wouldst show a poor beggar amongst the streets.
> 
> AN: First and foremost thank you to Bruna for putting up with letting me type out this entire story in VERY rough draft form over an IM after a particularly bad ER visit. THANK YOU BRUNA!.
> 
> Also, thank you to both athousandsmiles and betterthanreal for betaing this monster for me. Any and all praise is owed to them, any ooos and ahhs I'll take. Kelly took what was a lump of coal and made it a diamond and Rachel helped to put on the shine. Thank you ladies. Hope you enjoy.

**BURIED**

 

_When you're gone_  
  The pieces of my heart are missing you  
  When you're gone  
  The face I came to know is missing too  
  When you're gone  
\- When You're Gone by Avril Lavigne  
  
***  
  
 

This wasn't the sort of thing Cameron thought she would have to live through again, at least not this soon. Yet she found herself, once again, helping to pick out a casket and deciding when and where the actual funeral would take place. It felt surreal being surrounded by strangers and co-workers alike. Their profession involved fighting against the clock to prevent death. Now they were simply fighting to accept it.

She struggled to believe she had the right to grieve as much as those here that truly knew Amber. She had barely even scratched the surface of the doctor and person, but that didn't mean that her death had no impact on the world, especially her world. She knew what it was like to have to say that final goodbye to a casket being lowered into the ground, and maybe that was the reason she found herself bonding with Wilson.

Even though she wasn't close to Amber, she had liked her. She was the type of person who not only fought for what she wanted, but what she thought was right. In a way, she was a lot like House. They were both like forces of nature, sweeping in and leaving destruction in their wake, but also giving people the chance to start again. It was captivating. Looking around at the many faces, she knew that Amber's life had had an impact on quite a few. She may not have been well liked, but she was still respected and was going to be missed just the same.

It was a new dynamic now... in the hospital... in all of their lives. Just in the few days since Amber's death, the friendship Wilson and House had was shattered like splinters on a withered coffin. House had sacrificed, undergoing life risking surgery and the fact that it had failed to save Amber's life just made the whole scenario more tragic. Instead of bringing them closer, it tore them farther apart, buried their friendship deeper.

Maybe it was this new dynamic between the two men that made Wilson come to her instead of House. She might not ever understand how they had remained friends for so long. She guessed that House's inability to deal with emotions was just another reason Wilson had distanced himself. But, it wasn't her place to come between the two men. She could see both sides probably more clearly than either of them. No matter her feelings on the situation, it still felt odd to be the one standing next to Wilson as the casket was brought to the gravesite in the Princeton cemetery. It shouldn't matter whether or not they were on the best of terms. House should be the one in her place. However, both she and Wilson knew that wouldn't be the case. There was too much weighing on both men at the moment. House had barely recovered from his surgery, and Wilson was just starting off with his pain.

She felt as if Wilson had somehow been inducted into a club that should never even exist in the first place. She considered herself a veteran in death's twisted version of AA. She didn't need Wilson to stand and say his name and tell her he had lost a loved one. She was, in a warped way, his sponsor and peer in the affairs of grief.

Wilson had once told her how working in oncology could change a person, especially when you were surrounded by so much death. She could tell that he was good at distancing himself from his patients when it came to their deaths, even those he was close with, but this was different. He had become the man that everyone came to for support when they needed something or someone. It was different on this side of the fence. She knew better than most. She knew exactly what people would say to try and console him, and she knew exactly how he would feel about what they said. She had an urge, a kind of misplaced duty to try and protect him from all those here, those brave enough to try and tell them they understood his grief. The truth was, no matter how much they said they understood, they never would. She wasn't there for anyone except for Wilson, and she would be there for him for as long as he needed a shoulder to lean on. And, in some bizarre way, it helped to remind her that she wasn't alone in the world no matter how many people surrounded her.

The crunch of tires over the gravel road brought Cameron out of her self inflection, and she turned to see Cuddy's car being parked along the narrow street where tombstones stood like grim road signs signaling the despair ahead. She could make out the image of House on the passenger side, his shoulders slouched. He took a few moments before he turned away to open his door. She felt Wilson tense beside her. His anger towards his friend might be irrational, but he was grieving, and he deserved that much. And if it made him feel better to have House there, than she would let him be. But when Wilson tore his eyes from House and looked at her, pleading with his eyes, she knew that he wouldn't be able to say his goodbyes if House was there. He didn't have to say it with words, she simply understood.

The plush grass beneath her feet whizzed by in a blur and before she knew it, she found herself only a few feet from Cuddy's car, blocking House's path. Though he looked like hell, she had to remind herself that she was there for Wilson, not House.

“I don't think it's such a good idea for you to be here, House.”

Cuddy turned around to look at Cameron, her mouth opened in disbelief, but Cameron was unfazed by the woman. She didn't care what Cuddy thought of her at that moment. She didn't care what anyone thought of her as long as she made sure she did everything she could to help Wilson.

“I don't think that's your call, Dr. Cameron. House is...”

Cameron glared at Cuddy. She knew they both were probably being irrational. Grief had a funny way of doing that to people. “It wasn't my call. It was Wilson's.”

Cuddy looked as if she was about to respond, but House beat her to the punch.

"Not his call to make. I thought this was a funeral for Amber Volakis."

Cuddy made her way back over, most likely to come to House's defense, but she ignored the woman's approach and looked back towards Wilson, who looked paler than he was mere moments before.

"Dr. Cuddy, I doubt there is anyway I can make House leave. I'm just asking for a few moments to talk to him..." She glanced at Wilson, her gaze lingering, setting her shoulders in determination, "... for Wilson."

House tipped his head towards Wilson before addressing Cuddy in a gruff tone.

“Go make sure Jimmy's alright.”

Cameron noticed Cuddy's eyes soften before she turned once again and slowly made her way towards Wilson.

Cameron then gave her complete attention to House.

"I'm not leaving."  


"I'm not asking you to."

House narrowed his eyes at her, the spark of defiance glinting in the deep blue of his eyes. The darker stubble against his cheek and the weariness that wilted House's frame were clear signs of the turmoil he too was feeling. It pained her to see him in such a state. She felt the twitch of her hand itching to comfort the man in front of her. The flicker of his eyes being drawn towards the casket made her realize that he wasn't here just for Wilson. He actually had formed some sort of odd bond with Amber, and in their own bizarre way they were friends. She knew that House deserved to grieve, she just didn't think it would be fair for either man to let their grief tear their friendship any farther apart than it already was.

"Well then, whatever you have to say, you better make it snappy." His irratation and impatience were obvious as the tip of his cane dug past the grass and was beginning to scatter the earth beneath.

“Fine,” Cameron said, walking the few steps it took to get back to Cuddy's car and opening the passenger door. “Have a seat, so we can talk.

She didn't wait for House to respond before she made her way over to get in the driver's seat, turning to face him as she heard him close the passenger door.

“Wilson doesn't want you here.”

“So, what? You Wilson's new bitch? I'm sure he looks even better now that he's damaged.”

Cameron was used to House lashing out. It was his own way of dealing with people, the world, his pain. She had a feeling that now that Wilson was not there for House, he would crawl further into himself, and continue to lash out even more than usual. Right now though, she was the one to take the brunt of his anger.

"Just because your charity case died, doesn't mean you know everything about death." he stated with more emphasis, his eyes flickering with a malice that could melt the cold marble of the headstone he was currently glaring at.

“I never claimed that I did, but look at him, House. I mean, really look at him.” She waited for him to turn in Wilson's direction, and she could swear that his eyes were tearing up, but no matter how painful this was, she had to let him know. If she didn't, then who else would? Certainly not Cuddy, and there was no way Wilson could.

“He's grieving, House. He just lost probably the one love that really got him. The one that let Wilson be Wilson, warts and all, and now she's gone. I get that you want to be here for him, and I do get that you have a right to say goodbye, too, but do you really want today to be more difficult on both of you?”

She didn't see the tear that fell from House's eye, but she did notice the glossy shine from the track it left when the morning sun reflected upon his face.

“What makes you think you're doing a better job? You don't know Wilson.”

"No, I don't, but have you ever had to bury someone you've loved? Do you know how hard it is to deal with whether or not you get a birch casket or a cedar, or whether the lining should be white or ivory? Or how about what she should wear? What would you tell him then? That it doesn't matter? You might think it doesn't, but it means something to him."

House kept his eyes locked on Wilson, not once looking at Cameron.

"Look House, you can say whatever you want about me. But right now, Wilson needs a friend. And believe it or not, I am Wilson's friend, and I'll be there for him for as long as he needs me to be, and if that means keeping you away for awhile so he can grieve... then... I'm sorry."

When Cameron saw another tear slide down House's cheek, she knew that House would give Wilson all the time he needed, just as much as she knew he would do his own grieving for Amber. It was one of the most self-sacrificing acts she had ever seen. This was more than trying to save someone's life, this was him trying to keep Wilson's soul intact, even though she was sure it was tearing his up inside. As if by instinct, her hand found itself gently resting over his to let him know that she wasn't indifferent to his pain.

She decided to leave him in peace. She was sure that he wouldn't want her there any longer. But just before she shut the door, she heard House murmur, his voice thick and raspy with something akin to desperation.

“I just want my friend back.”

It was that slight catch and quiet desperation that was her undoing. Cameron couldn't help her own tears from spilling. It was gut-wrenching to see House so broken. She hated herself just a little for her next words.

"I know.... but you'll never have your friend back." It was sad, and so profoundly unfair, but it was what it was. Grief this deep changes people. She shut the door softly behind her and went back to Wilson. She felt House's eyes bearing into her back the entire way, and almost stumbled under the burdens of two men she cared for deeply. But she strengthened her resolve, holding onto Wilson as he clutched her like a drowning man gasping for that last breath.


	2. Drowning

**DROWNING**

 

House stared at the clock on his mantle; the tick tock of the second hand grew louder with every pass.  He didn't need the constant reminder of time.  He could feel it, like a shackle locked to his ankle.  He hated that feeling with every fiber of his being.  Reaching forward, he grabbed one of the magazines lying on his table and threw it at his mantle. Knocking the clock to the floor, he watched it fall apart with a satisfying clatter.  
  


He could still hear the ticking in his head.

It had been 2 months and 16 days since the night of the crash, and 2 months and 12 days since Amber's death. But life continued on.

Every night since the funeral, he found himself in another bar trying to drown his guilt. But, his thoughts kept the glass planted against every surface. They all had a heaviness he could never seem to lift. Every bar looked the same, every drink felt just as leaden. He couldn't stand it.  The only place he could drink was in the solace of his own apartment, leaving no witnesses to his complete misery. Wilson used to help keep his misery at bay.  Helped to keep him company on dark nights. However, now the only company he had was his scotch and bourbon, and Cameron's words taunting him over and over.

_'You'll never have your friend back.'_

That same phrase kept ringing in his ears, like an overplayed pop song that was more unbearable than the ticking of his clock.  He tipped back his glass for another sip, settling further into the lumpy cushions of his couch. He felt pathetic. He hated himself, and what he was reduced to without his friend.  He should have been able to cope, and yet.... He never fully understood how much Wilson meant to him until now. They always had somewhat of a tumultuous friendship, but they always came out fine in the end, only... Wilson had pushed him away and found a new friend in Cameron.

He poured more scotch and downed the contents once more as pictures of the two of them eating lunches together flashed before his eyes. It seemed as if Wilson was slowly moving on with his life… without him, while he was stuck, if not sliding further, into the dark. He was tired and weary. He wanted things to go back to the way they were before Amber.

House fiddled with his empty glass in one hand, while his phone was held loosely in the other. He kept thinking of what he would say if he worked up the courage to call Wilson, and then heard Cameron's voice once again, mocking him. He didn't mean to punch in Cameron's number, but before he gave himself time to process what he was doing, he heard the tell-tale click of someone picking up the phone on the other end.

He didn't wait for her customary greeting and dove right in instead, the alcohol fueling his resolve.

“You think you can fix Wilson? You couldn't fix me, and you sure as hell didn't fix your husband..."

"House?"

“... you can't just flash a smile and have everything spring up flowers. If you're just trying to move in and help Wilson get over Amber by taking her place... well, that's just cruel... even for you... no, especially for you... Saint Cameron.”

"Where are you," she asked with an impatient sigh on her lips.

"Why?"

"House, just tell me where you are, because I'm not going to talk about this over the phone.  You have a habit of not letting things go, and you can get your answers and then I could get some sleep."

"You said I'd never get my friend back."

"I know what I said," she snapped impatiently.

"Man, you're bitchy when you don't get your beauty sleep." 

"Could you just shut up for once and listen to what I have to tell you?  You do want your friend back, don't you?"

He kept silent.  He did want his friend back, but he'd be damned before he admitted that to her, at least out loud.  Instead, he just answered her previous question. 

"I'm at my apartment."  He chased the reply with a sip of his scotch.

"I'll be there in about 20 minutes."  He thought she was about to hang up, but a few seconds later she added one more thing.

"House... whatever I tell you...  it's strictly between us."

"Yeah... yeah..." House pushed the end button on his phone before throwing it on the cushion beside him.

It was just over 20 minutes later that House heard Cameron's distinct rapping at his door.  He put his glass back on the table before heaving himself off the couch and making his way over to the door. Her knocking was grating on his nerves, and he opened the door with more force than he intended.  The momentum of the door and Cameron storming past him, made him stumble back a bit.  A jolt of pain shot through his thigh as he regained his balance and glared at Cameron who was seated on his couch and gulping down the rest of his scotch.

"Make yourself at home. I think I have another bottle of that... in the kitchen," he muttered, his voice laced with his trademark sarcasm.

House slammed the door behind him and stalked back over to the couch, plopping himself down at the other end of where Cameron was seated.  He took the tumbler from her hands and poured another generous amount for himself.

Before he could lift the glass back up to his lips, Cameron spoke.

"You wanted to talk.  So talk."

"You were the one that insisted on coming over here."

"And you're the one that called me in the middle of the night."

"Doesn't mean I want to talk.  Insult, yes.  Talk, no."

"Then insult me. Yell, vent, whatever.  You hate me? Fine.  You resent me for spending time with Wilson?  Do you seriously think I don't know how your trying to dump all this guilt on yourself? I'm not as dense as you think I am."  She narrowed her eyes, daring him to respond.

"Who said I feel guilty?  I'm not the one having trouble coping."

"Right, the getting drunk off your ass is just another one of your quirky personality traits."

"Yup," he muttered, defiantly staring back. 

"Then why in the hell did you call me?"

"Booty call," he shrugged, one corner of his mouth turning upwards.

"Bullshit. You've probably got 'Hookers R Us' on speed dial."

"Are you going to be this annoying the entire time, because you are seriously killing my buzz?"

"Fine, you obviously don't care about yourself or Wilson..." She stood to leave, anger radiating off her very being.

House sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot around her. She made him think, and not the kind of thinking he liked to do. She made him feel things he didn't want to feel. After what happened with Amber, House realized that he needed Wilson. He needed his friend, and he was just the tiniest bit heartbroken that Cameron could talk so freely with Wilson as he was once able to do. He knew Wilson's every tell, all his stories, all about the good, the bad, and the ugly, the latter mostly caused by him, he realized now.  And it was all eating away at him.

"I didn't say that," he mumbled, while sucking in one of the ice cubes rattling in his glass.  He watched out of the corner of his eye as she froze and then slowly turned to face him, waiting for him to continue.  "He's going to try and sleep with you, if he hasn't already.  You probably even gave in, and broke the wombat's heart."

He glanced over at her to see if she would deny it, but she just stood there, not saying a word.

"Not denying it?"

The only reaction he got out of her was a shrug of the shoulders.

"So, what? One pity fuck and all of a sudden he's fine?"

"You know him better than I do."  She said it so effortlessly.  It stung a bit, the casualness of it all.

"I used to, but it seems like the two of you have gotten closer.  Eating lunches, going out.  I'm sure you're loving every minute of it.  Sweet and caring Cameron mending his broken heart."

"You think he's fixed?"

The conversational delivery of that line seemed to enrage him.

"Well, it seems as if he's moved on. He's stopped ditching his patients, so I'd say he's doing better."

"Yes, because working with cancer patients is a sign of his moving on," she sniped, settling back down on his couch once again.

"I eat lunch in the cafeteria too. It's not hard to miss you both smiling and laughing at each other. It gets a bit sickening after awhile. Makes it hard to eat."

"So, I'm to blame for your lack of nutrition?"

House paused a moment, his emotions bubbling over.

"He changed the locks.  Even got one of those bar things for his balcony door."

She didn't seem surprised that he would try to break in to Wilson's place. "So you're mad at him for wanting some privacy?"

"Privacy?  He doesn't even look at me.  Keeps his blinds closed, like he's afraid I'll turn into a peeping tom... that's a few steps away from privacy."

Damn.  Why was he telling Cameron this?  The alcohol.  It had to be.  He got up and began to pace behind the couch.  She was really starting to piss him off, and he wasn't sure if it was because of what she said, or didn't say.

"What do you expect him to do?"

"I don't expect him to do anything,"  he raged, "He's the one being irrational.  I risked my fucking life, and he's acting as if I shoved that pill in Amber's mouth and rammed into the bus just for kicks."

"But you were the reason she was on the bus in the first place," she said, calm and matter of fact.

House punched the wall closest to him.  Why did she have to bring that up?

"That wasn't my fault.  I didn't ask her to come.  What do I have to do to get that across to him?"

"Well, obviously the alcohol and self-pity's gone a long way for you."

That was harsh, and he cringed at how effortlessly it fell from her lips.  What the hell happened to the Cameron he knew?  The one who was constantly badgering him to see if he was okay?  He felt his anger boiling inside.  He felt exposed, and he hated Cameron for pushing him in a topic he didn't want to discuss with her.  It wasn't any of her business.  He fixed his gaze on hers, his burning with barely contained animosity.

"What the fuck do you know?  I can't even drink anymore without having him hovering over me." He could see she was about to respond, and he tried to contain some of his anger.  "Well, obviously I can drink, but..."  Suddenly deflated, he couldn't continue looking at her.  She wasn't supposed to be here.  He was supposed to be letting out his frustration to her over the phone.  He walked over to his armchair and sat down, ignoring the twitching in his thigh, which had been bothering him more and more as the evening dragged on.

The bottles loitering about his living room were more a sign of that than his words.  He leaned over, rested his head in his hands and sighed, feeling worn.

"I've known Wilson for years and out of all the shit I've pulled, all the shit he's had to deal with, he's always forgiven me. Always came back.  So why hasn't he said anything?  Why does he continue to blame me?"

Her voice was so quiet, he barely could make out her reply.

"I don't know."

He could feel his throat closing up on him.  She was supposed to have the answers.  What good was she if she couldn't answer him?  The stinging of his eyes made him close them in an attempt to keep them from watering.  The alcohol was meant to be numbing.

"It's not my fault."  His voice hitched just a bit.  He was feeling vulnerable and couldn't stand Cameron's stare blazing into him.  He couldn't face her.  Why did he even tell her as much as he did?  Did Wilson open up to her like this?

He heard the rustle of her clothing against the rough texture of his sofa as she stood up.  Her foot steps fell quietly until her shadow loomed over him.  He was getting agitated with every passing moment.

When she finally broke the silence, her voice was quiet, tinged with a steady resolve.  It held a certain weight that House wasn't sure how to acknowledge.

"You might be a brilliant doctor, observe and see things no one else can see, but you've forgotten how to read Wilson.  He's not the same Wilson you remember, he's changed.  Death is fickle that way.  He's had someone he loved and that truly loved him, snatched away.  Yeah, he still smiles and he's gone on with his life, but it's not the same.  It's not the same smile, the same laugh. Those were Amber's.  It's the small things, House.  Maybe it's time you got to know your friend again."

A rustle of denim and then he felt her hand tugging on his own, demanding him to look at her. She placed a twenty dollar bill in his upturned hand, and he closed his fist around it, crinkling his brow in confusion.

"Start small.  Buy him a coffee and leave it with his secretary.  Leave a note so he knows you care."

"And the twenty?"

"You're a smart man.  I'm sure you'll figure something out.  You might even have some left over for a decent meal."

She turned and made her way towards the door.  Before leaving his apartment, she turned one more time.

"If you need to talk again, let me know... but remember, between the two of us... I was never here."

And before he could think of anything else to say, she was gone, his door clicking shut quietly behind her.

__

The next day, House found himself in the cafeteria, watching as Wilson and Cameron exchanged smiles, and conversed with an enviable level of comfort.  He had spent the better part of last night and today arguing with himself.  Saying that Cameron was wrong, that Wilson hadn't changed, that she didn't know her ass from her elbow.  But there was still that tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him that maybe she was right.

Maybe that was why he finally noticed that when Wilson did smile at something Cameron said, it wasn't the same.  He noted other small changes, too, that he never thought to observe before, like the way Wilson was now picking at his food, taking small bites every now and again.  A part of House hated Cameron for being right, and another part was thankful that she was... because... that just might mean that Wilson would be able to forgive him... he might get his friend back.


	3. Wading

**WADING**

 

House leaned against the wall of the ER, quietly observing Cameron, noting the dark circles beneath her storm grey eyes. She moved about the crowd of whining patients and ER staff with a lethargy that spoke of late nights and long hours.   
  
Hesitant at first, he eventually did take her advice and had left a bag of chips and coffee on Wilson's desk with a scribbled note. For his own amusement, of course, he left a bottle of Ritalin next to the coffee. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else. After a few days had passed and nothing changed, he felt like a fool for listening to Cameron. But finally, Wilson gave him a small greeting in the hallway. It wasn't much, but he felt it was a start. Every once in a while, they would exchange a few words, dancing around each other like awkward teens with a crush on one another, but nothing beyond that. He didn't quite know how to move things forward. Before, he would have simply pushed the issue, regardless of Wilson's feelings. He was still an ass after all, but he didn't want to risk pushing Wilson too far. Yet, things were going too slow for his liking, and for lack of a better plan, he found himself drawn to Cameron, craving her advice.   
  
Resolved to get this whole thing over and done with before his pride held him back, he strode over to the desk where she was scribbling something down on a chart.   
  
She stole a quick glance at him before turning her attention back to the chart at hand.   
  
"I'm busy," she said abruptly.   
  
He ignored her. The ER was always busy.   
  
“You told me I would get my friend back.”   
  
Cameron placed the clipboard on the desk, and turned to a passing nurse to give an order on one of her patients and then made her way over towards another curtain. He followed her, not caring about whether or not his presence was irritating her.   
  
"No, I didn't," she said succinctly, searching for a pair of small gloves.  
  
“You implied it,” he accused. “I can't believe I'm going to say this, but you were right... about Wilson, and... I need to know what to do next.”   
  
House noticed the tensing in Cameron's shoulders. Up close, she looked more spent than he had originally thought. But despite her haggard appearance, she still held a sense of authority about her. When she finally turned her gaze towards him, he was taken aback by the slightest look of anger and loathing in her stare.   
  
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about,” she stated while snapping on her gloves.   
  
She delivered that line so well that he was starting to question whether or not he ever talked to her, but the twenty burning a hole in his pocket was proof otherwise.   
  
However, his patience was growing thin. He didn't want to drag this out any longer than necessary. He wasn't sure what her problem was, she was the one that said that she would be there if he needed to talk, and he wanted to talk.   
  
As she turned her back to him, he reached out and grabbed her arm to keep her from escaping.  
  
"Are you PMSing," he snapped as he glared at her.   
  
Cameron huffed and dragged him over towards an empty gurney, her aggravation clear. She shoved him lightly and then drew the curtains closed rather violently.  
  
Her voice came out in a harsh whisper. “Damn it, House! I know you don't respect me, but I had hoped that you would have at least respected our agreement. Clearly, I was wrong to trust you to keep your trap shut for once.” Her finger pressed against his chest had him leaning back against the empty bed as she continued to rail at him. “I told you to keep this between us.”   
  
“Oh, don't be such a drama queen.. It's not like we're having some kind of clandestine affair. This whole secret mafia thing is crap.”   
  
“Fine, you think it's crap? Then don't come to me asking for answers.” She turned, ready to storm off.   
  
“Oh, for fuck's sake!” he sighed.   
  
She turned back, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. “Fuck you! You can't respect my wishes, you don't get shit from me.” With that, she pulled back the curtain and stalked away from him.   
  
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. Now she was pissed at him, and he still needed answers. He didn't like the idea of people knowing that he had to come to her for help, but he also didn't think she was that serious about the whole 'godfather' agreement. The entire predicament was absurd. The problem was, she's the only one Wilson seemed willing to talk to, which in turn, meant that she's the only one who could help him. He couldn't afford to lose Wilson over something so asinine, and another part of him, however slight, admitted that he didn't want to lose Cameron either.   
  
When did he become so dependent on others? He had gotten along fine for years, pushing people away. So why was it he was questioning himself now? He was startled to realize that he was fast considering Cameron as a friend. She was no Wilson, but she was good to have around on a rainy day, and today it felt as if the storm would never relent.   
  
This was why House didn't do friendships. Everything was too complex. It was a relationship where everything was supposed to mean something and nothing at the same time and your super secret decoder ring had ten different settings that changed colors with the phases of the moon. It was all very confusing. Which was why he needed Cameron's advice. At least, Cameron was easy. He didn't need any type of gadgets to fix what he screwed up, and the crisp twenty in his pocket was just what he needed.   
  
__   
  
Cameron felt exhausted. She swore she felt as she if she were playing some bizarre game of Tetris, where the patients were the odd shapes that just continued to pore in and she had to continue to find a way to fit them in before they overwhelmed her completely. She needed a break, and there was no such thing as a pause button when it came to real life. But, she could at least pass it to another doctor while she escaped for a few moments.   
  
She made a quick detour to her office and plopped down in her chair before she noticed a coffee cup, a yellow post-it stuck to the lid, sitting on top of a stack of papers that still needed to be signed off for the day.   
  
She pulled off the sticky and smiled.   
  
'The coffee here tastes like shit, but I figured you would prefer it to my company'   
  
It was cold and yes, tasted like shit, but it was a nice gesture. No matter how far she had come in moving on with her life, she still had a soft spot for House, and it seemed he had an unlimited supply of her forgiveness.  
  
She finished off her shift, changed out of her scrubs, and then made a quick trip to House's office. She knew he would be there. Since Amber's death, he'd taken to staying late, like he couldn't bear to face the world outside of PPTH.   
  
The loss of Amber hung over the hospital like a cloak. She wished that she wasn't so attuned to the grief. It followed her like a ghost. But this time, she didn't let herself slip because she was in pain. She was letting herself slip because she was so busy making sure those she cared about were okay. It was a blessing, a curse, a burden, and a duty all rolled into one emotional rollercoaster, and she was closing her eyes to keep herself from seeing where exactly she would end up.   
  
Her thoughts had kept her occupied as her body ran on auto-pilot all the way to his office. She paused only a moment to observe him as he absently toyed with his oversized ball. He was wearing what Cameron had come to classify as his deep personal thoughts face.   
  
She didn't bother knocking and walked slowly into the room, sitting down in the seat across from him and waiting until he lifted his head before addressing him.   
  
“You think you can keep your trap shut?”   
  
The nod of his head was slight, but the look in his eyes was sincere.   
  
Cameron nodded in return, and slapping the armrests, stood up.   
  
“Alright then, let's go.”   
  
She smiled at the way he crinkled his brow in confusion, happy that she could take him off guard. He probably didn't think she would give in that easily, but she didn't have it in her to hold a grudge against him.   
  
“Go?”   
  
“Yes go. I'm hungry, and I'm not talking until I eat.”   
  
“And I have to go, and what? Watch?”   
  
“We'll go to McGinty's. It's neutral, and they have good Reubens. They don't put pickles anywhere near them... plus, I'm paying.”   
  
It took a moment until he responded. “Fine. I'll meet you there.”   
  
__   
  
As House entered the bar, it didn't take long for him to spot Cameron. She was already seated at a booth chatting away with what he assumed was the waiter. Her blonde hair now hung loose around her face, giving her a softer look in the low lights of the bar. She was a contradiction in her dark wash jeans, leather boots, and one of those light blue puffy sleeved blouses he abhorred. She was approachable, but there was that emotionally stunted part of him yelling at him to run as fast as he could in the other direction.   
  
As soon as he took his seat, he couldn't help but smirk as Cameron said a flirty goodbye to the waiter.  
  
"What?"   
  
“Nothing, just didn't think you'd bounce back so fast after your split with Chase.”   
  
“There was a bet, wasn't there?”   
  
When he didn't deny it, she went on, her voice tinged with annoyance. “There should be a bet on how fast gossip can get around the hospital.”   
  
“Already done. Two hours if it's really juicy gossip. Like the kind I make up.”   
  
“Of course.”   
  
House rolled his eyes when Cameron's gaze flickered over to the bar and she waved to one of the younger male bartenders.   
  
“Seriously?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Have you gone through all the men in Princeton yet?”   
  
Cameron sighed before replying. “I'm not quite there, but I do have 'the whore of Princeton' branded on my ass. I'd let you see it, but sorry, you passed up your chance and there are no takesy backseys.”   
  
He chuckled to himself. Cameron was definitely a puzzle. He never really knew what to expect, and he was just now beginning to see how complex she was.   
  
She took a sip of her water and then spoke again.   
  
“Oh, I ordered you a Reuben and fries.”   
  
“Not hungry.”   
  
“You don't eat. I don't talk," she said, a wry smile playing at her lips.   
  
He narrowed his eyes, hoping she would relent. "That wasn't part of the deal."  
  
"Deal's changed."   
  
Interesting. She would take his abuse, and listen to what he had to say, but she wasn't backing down on this. She never backed down when it came to patients, but she never seemed to have the backbone to stick it out when it came to anything that came close to his personal life.   
  
"When did you get so bitchy," he asked curiously.  
  
"God only knows," she said, sarcastically.   
  
"You don't believe in God."   
  
Cameron put her hands on the table and leaned in towards him.   
  
"Stop the bullshit, House.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“I've seen you in the cafeteria picking at your food. You haven't been eating. So, please, just eat half of your stupid sandwich and shut up.”   
  
"I've been..."   
  
"House,” she interrupted, “I'm not going to sit by and watch you waste away. Humor me, okay?”   
  
The gentleness in her voice was too much for him, and he had to look away. He didn't want or need her pity. He didn't come here for that. He came here for advice on Wilson. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all.   
  
Before he could make up his mind, the food came and was placed in front of them. He was surprised to see that Cameron had ordered a beer for herself. He didn't see her as much of a drinker. Well, there was the scotch, but that was different. Damn it, he wasn't supposed to be thinking about Cameron. He was here for Wilson.   
  
"If you need some incentive, Wilson does want to be your friend again. He's just afraid he'll hate himself too much if he did." Cameron ended the statement with a bite of her own burger.   
  
"Why the hell would he hate himself?"   
  
Cameron gestured towards House's plate and finished chewing her food before replying.   
  
"Eat."   
  
House grunted, but picked up the Reuben anyway and took a large and rather obnoxious bite.   
  
"Happy now?"   
  
"Ecstatic. Now, just a few more bites, and you might just grow up to be a strong young man."   
  
House gave a short snort of amusement before taking another bite. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he found himself polishing off his plate. Damn. Cameron was right. Again. And in more ways than one. First off, the Reuben was damn good and he made a mental note to come back here again, but even more disconcerting was, she was right in the regards that he wasn't eating.   
  
It was annoying how well she could read him. Hell, he had slept with Cuddy a few times since Amber's death and even she didn't notice anything amiss other than him missing Wilson. What was so damn special about Cameron that she noticed all these things. They barely even crossed paths anymore. And yet, she could reveal more to him about himself and Wilson than he ever could, and he resented her just a little for that.   
  
When he finished his plate, he looked up to see Cameron's smug face, her eyebrow raised as if to say 'told ya.' Brat.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, shut up. Now... Wilson.”   
  
"Cameron, how have you been doing lately? Feeling a little like crap, but thanks for asking," Cameron mimicked before taking a long drag from her beer.   
  
House just reached over and took the bottle from her hand and put it just slightly out of her reach.   
  
"You never said anything about having to exchange pleasantries. In case you haven't noticed, I don't do pleasant."   
  
"Obviously, but you need to find a way to reign in your asshole quota around Wilson, at least, for a little while.”   
  
"Okay, but that's around Wilson."   
  
"I figured you could use some practice."   
  
Pushing his plate forward, he leaned his elbows on the table leaning forward.   
  
"You look like crap. Are you that upset that little Chasey-wasey broke your heart?"   
  
"Do you regret sleeping with Cuddy," she snapped.   
  
Okay, obviously a touchy subject. Wait til information is gathered.   
  
"Look, House, I'm sure neither of us came here with the intention of diving into each other's personal lives. So... you wanted to talk. So talk.”   
  
“He's still avoiding me.”   
  
“But he's talking to you.”   
  
“Barely.”   
  
“So you're unhappy, why? Because things are moving too slow? You can't put a time limit on grief, House.”   
  
"What does that have to do with him not talking to me? You said he still wanted to be my friend, but apparently he can't do that because he would hate himself too much.”   
  
"I didn't say that," she closed her eyes briefly, he could practically see the wheels turning in her head trying to find a way to phrase what she needed to say.   
  
She probably thought he didn't notice, but he saw how much this whole thing was taking out of her. Every time they opened up to one another, rare as those moments were, she always seemed to give up a bit of herself to him, and he always took it, storing it away but never quite knowing what to do with it. It was an odd sensation to feel comforted while watching someone who cared for you destroy themselves on your behalf. He only hoped that she felt, at the very least, the tiniest bit liberated in finally being able to share her pain with someone else.   
  
He watched as she shook her head slightly and muttered, “You never listen.”   
  
“Well, I'm listening now. So talk.”   
  
“He's afraid.” she said, meeting his gaze.   
  
“Of what?”   
  
She gave him a dry laugh.   
  
“You still haven't really grasped this, have you? He's afraid of everything. He loved Amber. He's afraid that everything he does will kill her memory just that little bit more. That throwing away her toothbrush will somehow wash away her memory for good. And with you... every time he's around you, all he can think about is that she was there with you in her last moments truly alive. And he feels guilty as hell about that, about pressuring you into having a surgery that couldn't even save her life. He feels guilty about putting your life at risk. He's scared you'll resent him for that.”   
  
“That's ludicrous.”   
  
“He doesn't want your friendship to be all about the guilt. The guilt both of you are feeling. So, you just have to continue to take it slow, but...”   
  
“But what?” He didn't want there to be a but. She was supposed to help him find a way to get through to Wilson faster, not more advice about taking things slow. It was already at a snails pace.   
  
“I'll... try and talk to him." She sighed. It was the kind of sigh one would label with determination, and he knew without a doubt that Cameron would keep her word. She was probably the only person he knew that still believed that her word meant something. He often found that to be a weak quality, but he found that on her it was a strength.   
  
Before he knew it she had already placed several twenties on the table and was standing beside him, giving him that shy smile of hers.   
  
"You're a good man, House. Just wait little longer.... and for God's sake, take the change and buy yourself some food."   
  
Cameron leaned over and gave House a small whisper of a kiss on his cheek. "Remember, I was never here." And then she was gone, like a ghost.   
  
House was speechless. It was as if everything was finally sinking in and he was on overload. His mouth just seemed to refuse to work.   
  
He subconsciously rubbed his cheek where she had pressed her lips. After the waiter had come to collect the cash, he reached over to grab the beer and took a sip. It wasn't until the waiter came back with the change that House realized... he had finally taken a sip of alcohol outside of his apartment. He smiled to himself, grabbed what was left of the money, and left the bar.   
  
__   
  
A week had passed since his talk with Cameron, and he was beginning to get fidgety. She had promised him that she would talk to Wilson. Well, she had promised in so many words, but still. He had seen first hand what the results of Cameron's determination could be, and he was left... wait. Was he seeing things?   
  
Wilson was standing with his hands in his pockets at his office door.   
  
"Heard you had an interesting patient this week."   
  
It took House a second to snap out of it and realize that Wilson really was there. He looked awkward as hell, but at least it was a step in the right direction.   
  
"Oh, yeah, not-a-coma guy.” He smiled, remembering a particular moment from earlier in the week. “The look on Kutner's face when our sleeping beauty woke up in the middle of an exam was priceless.”   
  
House kept his smile as he noticed Wilson begin to smile as well, stepping further into the room.   
  
“Want to tell me about it over lunch,” Wilson asked, burrowing his hands further in his lab coat. “My treat.”   
  
House put his hands on his desk and pushed himself up to stand.   
  
"Sounds good."   
  
He made his way over to the door, waiting for Wilson, but he still hadn't moved from his spot.   
  
"House, this isn't... anything more than lunch... I mean.. I'm just not... "   
  
"Jesus, Jimmy. It's not a date. If it makes you feel better, I promise not to call after." He gave him a wink, not just in jest, but also to let him know that he understood.   
  
Wilson gave him that small smile again and nodded as they headed out the door. As they made their way down the hall, he made a mental note to leave a coffee and bagel on Cameron's desk the next morning. 


	4. Bracing

**BRACING**

 

Thirty-five lunches, forty-six snack breaks, and seventeen coffees, three of which he'd paid for himself... all of which took place on hospital grounds. He felt like a kid on play dates; that constant feeling that someone was hovering over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t do something stupid to hurt himself or someone else. It was getting ridiculous. The words ludicrous, asinine and absurd also sprung to mind, but the idea of fucking up just wasn’t an option.   
  
The past few months had been taxing, both mentally and emotionally. Work was still work. He would always slack and be brilliant at the same time. It was sort of his trademark. But when it came to personal relationships, he had a hard time coping. He was struggling to find that line between being an asshole and a friend without becoming borderline schizophrenic. He dealt with enough nut cases on a daily basis; he didn’t need to become one.   
  
He and Wilson were constantly tiptoeing around each other. Well, not exactly each other, more like certain topics, particular guilts. But it was weighing them down, and keeping them from moving forward. They were finally on this bridge to somewhere that looked suspiciously like a new beginning, but they were both stuck in traffic, and he didn’t know who was driving. Who was holding them up? That was what was really bothering him. Because he didn’t know if he was the one to blame this time around. And he had put Wilson through enough to say it was his fault. So, who was really blocking them?   
  
And, if that wasn’t enough, while he was mentally trying to avoid emotional turmoil with Wilson, he was trying to physically avoid Cameron. The dynamic had shifted, and he wasn’t expecting the feelings that came along with that shift. Not because it was awkward, but because it was pleasant. And anything pleasant in his life was something he had to work for, maintain, and could inevitably hurt him, which in the end, would leave him even more broken than he was before. But Cameron was a complete enigma. She was constantly breaking him with just a few well placed words, and he was the one having to glue himself back together. And it scared and thrilled him to find that every time this happened, he found that the pieces fit together better, felt more right than they did previously. He would always be a bitter, cantankerous, Vicodin popping ass, but he didn’t feel as hollow inside as he once did.   
  
The loud squabble of nurses busting through the cafeteria doors diverted Wilson and House’s attention for a moment before they went back to their lunches. Rumors spun around them like a whirlwind, most of which House had started out of boredom. He smiled in amusement as he watched the new male nurse fend off questions and false accusations. But as soon as they cleared, there was Cameron lagging behind the crowd like the kid in gym class who always got picked last.   
  
Cameron was by no means an average looking woman, but she wore her weariness like a blanket. Even her blonde locks looked lackluster. He could see the bags under her eyes even from this distance, and the drag in her step made Eeyore look like the poster child for peppiness. She grabbed a small salad, made her way through the line, and found a table towards the edge of the room.   
  
He noticed Wilson’s gaze flicker over towards her, giving her a small smile. She gave a small smile in return, but the brief flash of her eyes showed that the emotion behind the gesture just wasn’t there. House quickly glanced away from Cameron, before Wilson caught him staring. And worrying. He was diving into dangerous waters. He didn’t need to be thinking about these things around Wilson, who tended to have some sort of radar when it came to him and her .   
  
DAMN. Too late. Wilson had that look on his face, eyebrows raised in expectation.   
  
"So, what does Cameron think about me stealing her lunch buddy?" House asked, trying to cover his tracks while dunking the last of his fries deep enough into the ketchup that it coated the tips of his fingers.   
  
"We have coffee in the mornings now."   
  
"You mean, she just left you to fend for yourself?" House mocked, "I thought you two were getting all buddy-buddy. What type of friend is she?" he asked with a sarcastic edge, all the while sneaking glances over to Cameron who was barely touching her food.   
  
She looked more likely to pass out in it, than to actually eat it.   
  
“Believe it or not, Cameron is actually a great friend. Better than you'd give her credit for." Wilson said, mumbling the last bit into his drink.   
  
"Yeah, we all know about the good and benevolent Cameron. But coffees are never simply coffees. Not for you, anyway. Coffee is always code, for you know, coffee,” House stated, waggling his brows, and stealing one of Wilson’s fries.   
  
“Of course. And Cameron prefers hers whipped,” he supplied dryly, making House practically choke.   
  
"Oh, grow up! She's just a friend... and will most likely never be more than  **just**  a friend," Wilson added, throwing his last fry in House’s direction to emphasize his point.   
  
“Oh that’s mature. You’re the one talking about whips and throwing food, and you’re telling  **me**  to grow up?”   
  
“I blame it on osmosis.” Wilson said, a grin spreading across his face at their childish banter.   
  
House scoffed, and then looked over towards Cameron again. She still had yet to touch her meal, and was staring off into space.   
  
“So,” House said, after a pause, “since you two are such good friends now and all, what's up with the emo Raggedy Anne look?” he asked nodding his head in Cameron’s direction.   
  
"What's with the sudden interest in Cameron?” Wilson asked with a half smile before adding with a teasing lilt, "Worried?"   
  
“What? It’s not like it’s everyday she comes in looking like someone stole her favorite teddy-bear. I’m just curious is all. I’m always curious.”   
  
Wilson squinted his eyes in his classic 'you are so full of shit' fashion.   
  
“This is more than curiosity. You’re… interested. Which is… interesting.” Wilson said, pointing his finger at House.   
  
“No, not interesting. Just, intriguing.”   
  
“But, I thought.. you and Cuddy were... well... "   
  
House rolled his eyes and threw the fry that still sat on his tray back at Wilson.   
  
"Sheesh. You sleep with a hospital administrator a few times and suddenly everyone thinks you're sleeping with the boss..."   
  
"So, it's true. You and Cuddy."   
  
House looked away and shrugged. "Was"   
  
"What do you mean  _was_?"   
  
House was a tad reluctant to answer. It was complicated. Not only did it bring up Amber’s death, but it was something that House wasn’t exactly proud of. He was at a pretty low point. Not like that was an excuse. But again, it covered ground that still had a "no trespassing" sign posted on it. But as he looked over at Cameron, he could hear her voice inside his head telling him that it was his turn to take a chance on his friend, to trust in him. It had taken him quite some time to stop resenting that voice, because he wanted to believe that he knew himself and his friend better than anyone.   
  
"It was after Amber’s funeral," he stated simply. And just like that the conversation turned from light to dark, like a thundercloud passing over the sun.   
  
"Oh." Wilson said, sitting back in his chair a bit.   
  
House almost expected him to get up and walk out of the cafeteria at that point. He was pretty sure he even saw him about to rise, but then he noticed that Wilson glanced over in Cameron's direction as he himself had done earlier, and instead of leaving, Wilson just settled more into his chair and sighed before asking.   
  
"So were you two dating or was it just..." Wilson gestured with his hands knowing that House would understand.   
  
"I wouldn't exactly call it dating, no matter how good the sex was."   
  
"Then, what exactly was... it?" Wilson asked genuinely curious.   
  
"I just figured it was her pitying the poor cripple with everything that ... happened, and I just went along with it. It's a hell of a lot cheaper than hookers and her breasts are way..."   
  
Wilson held up his hand to stop House from continuing.   
  
“House!”   
  
“Wilson!”   
  
‘Damn Cameron,' House thought. He never would have even contemplated being this honest with Wilson before, at least not without making him work for it more. But this was friendship 2.0, and he wasn’t going to try and destroy it before it even finished getting off the ground.   
  
“It was a mistake,” he said, rubbing a hand subconsciously over his face.   
  
Wilson sighed, running both of his hands through his hair.   
  
"You do know that Cuddy really cares about you, right? And I know that in your own fucked up way you care about her too."   
  
"You make it sound like I kicked her out with her knickers 'round her ankles.”   
  
“Well, it does sound like something you would do.”   
  
“We both agreed it was a mistake. We like each other, we just don’t  _like_  like each other.”   
  
Wilson raised an eyebrow in House’s direction.   
  
"What?" House asked, raising his own brows.   
  
"Nothing, just wasn't expecting you to actually talk with feeling words. ‘ _Like_  like’? Are we five?"   
  
House brushed it off when he noticed the small curve of a smile at the edge of Wilson's lips.   
  
“You ready to get out of here?” House asked, grateful that the conversation was over.   
  
Instead of answering, they both stood up to bus their trays. They had just jumped a huge hurdle. One that should have been jumped ages ago, but now that they had momentum on their side, House wanted to move things along a little bit faster.   
  
"Do you want to come over tomorrow for the big game? Got beer."   
  
He hoped he sounded as nonchalant as he wanted to, but knew the answer would be no as soon as he saw Wilson pause for the briefest of seconds and tense up.   
  
“You do know what tomorrow is right?”   
  
“Yeah, the 29th.”   
  
"Um, I don't think I..."   
  
"Don't worry about it, maybe another time."   
  
"Yeah," Wilson responded before rushing out of the cafeteria.   
  
Shit. He could feel the pit of disappointment hit his gut. How was he supposed to know when to push and when not to push? It’s not like Wilson had a stoplight on his forehead letting him know when to forge ahead.   
  
He glanced back one more time at Cameron, who was busing her own tray. Maybe it was time for them to have another talk. She said she felt like crap the last time and yet she still agreed. He'd go by after his shift and see if he could drag her out and pump her for information on how to move things along a bit faster with Wilson. He might even be able to satisfy his curiosity about her haggard appearance.   
  
The day seemed to move slower for House once he got back from lunch. Apparently, it was Hadley's turn to have a moment of genius and diagnose the patient, which left House to think about what he did wrong to spook Wilson. But the thing that was irritating him even more was that the other half of his thoughts were consumed with worry over Cameron. He was only supposed to be curious not worried.   
  
He could finally admit that he respected her as a doctor and a person. And he was thankful for her help with Wilson, but respecting and caring weren't the same thing. He was starting to get frustrated with himself and decided that 5:30 was close enough that he could go down and steal Cameron from the ER. He told himself it was only another one of their... moments... to help him with Wilson... and that was all.   
  
He staggered a bit at the door to her office when he opened it. Cameron was bent over at the waist, one hand gripping her desk and the other holding her chest as she gasped for breath. He let the worry fade when he noticed the overturned coffee cup on the ground, deducing that she took a sip that simply went down the wrong pipe.   
  
Cameron turned when she heard the door open and sat on the edge of her desk still clutching her chest, and coughing slightly.   
  
"Jesus, House..."   
  
"Look, I know I'm breath-taking, but you might want to get a handle on that."   
  
"Gee, thanks. Your concern is touching," she replied, her breathing slowly returning to normal.   
  
"You look like shit."   
  
"And you look like an ass," she snapped back just as quickly, reaching down to retrieve the cup and tossing it in the trash can.   
  
House closed the door and sat down in one of her chairs.   
  
"Yes, but an ass who can still take your breath away. In my opinion, that's a point in my favor."   
  
Shit. This was a lot harder than he expected. The doctor part of him wanted to sweep her for symptoms to make sure she was alright, while the part of him that usually belonged in the  _'only care about your one friend, Wilson'_ category wanted to brush back the bangs on her forehead and ask her if she was okay. Really okay.   
  
"Did you actually need something, or did you just come to bless me with your presence?"   
  
"Need to talk."   
  
"About?" she asked as she knelt down, grabbing a few napkins from the top of her desk, to clean up the small puddle on the carpet.   
  
"Last time I said anything at work, you went all Godzilla on my ass. This is more of a ... Godfather kind of conversation."   
  
"So, you want to talk about Wilson."   
  
"Shhh!" House hushed her, putting his finger in front of his lips. "If Cameron hears you say that, she might put a hit out on me, and I'm just too pretty to die."   
  
She gave House a small smile.   
  
"Don't worry, Cameron got the hell out of here while she still could."   
  
"Ah, so should I meet her at McGinty's then?"   
  
"House, I'm really not..." she started, standing back up and leaning against her desk.   
  
"I think... I fucked up. With Wilson." The words left his mouth without consent from his brain. He knew she was about to say she didn't feel well. He could tell. It looked as if she needed someone to knock her out and just let her sleep for a few days. He was torn between wanting her advice about Wilson and wanting to leave her in peace.   
  
With a sigh and a nod, she agreed. "It'll be another 30 minutes until I can get out of here. I'll meet you there." She reached for her purse and grabbed a few bills, mindlessly plucking off the lint.   
  
He stood up slowly, completely ignoring his cane lying beside him against Cameron's desk, and put his hand over hers to still her movements.   
  
"I think I can pay for my own food." he said with a quiet amusement before reaching for his cane and walking towards the door. "See you at McGinty's?"   
  
He saw her nod her head before he ducked out of her office.   
  
___   
  
House wasn't there more than a few minutes when he saw her walk in with a fresh set of clothes and a tad more color to her cheeks. He wished he could say that he was the reason for it, but knew better and just acknowledged that she put on a bit of make up before leaving the hospital. Her hair was down, and was curling slightly. It didn’t look as dull as it did in the harsh hospital lights, but there was still something about her that was off. There was a spark that was missing.   
  
As soon as she sat down she waved to a man behind the bar.   
  
"Come here often?" he asked with a raised brow.   
  
"Often enough to know Mike McGinty,” she said, placing her purse beside her, “and to avoid coming here on Thursdays."   
  
"Why? What happens on Thursdays?" he asked as a waiter came to the table.   
  
"Mike sings," she stated simply, which brought a shadow of a smile to his lips. She then turned to the waiter and ordered a soda before turning her attention back to House.   
  
"Coke, Reuben... and fries," he said, handing the waiter his menu. "And she'll have the same," he added, not looking at Cameron. Thankfully, the man left before she could object.   
  
"House. What the hell was that for?"   
  
"What? I got you fries."   
  
"That's not what I meant and you know it."   
  
"Oh, did you forget what to do with food? Okay, you see when they bring your plate out...."   
  
"House!"   
  
"You barely ate anything today at lunch, and you look as if you could be blown over by a strong breeze, so just eat the damn sandwich."   
  
Cameron looked at her watch, and then off to the side before replying, “Fine.”   
  
House observed Cameron quietly for a few minutes, noticing little things about the way she fidgeted with her watch, or how she would look anywhere except directly at him.   
  
"You're hiding something," House said, looking at her more closely in the dim lights of the bar.   
  
"And you're avoiding."   
  
"What's really going on?"   
  
"I thought you wanted to talk about Wilson."   
  
"Now, who's avoiding?"   
  
"You said that you thought that you screwed up with Wilson earlier. What exactly happened?"   
  
"Yes, but we haven't reached that part of the conversation yet. See, you have this pesky habit of lecturing me and then leaving. Doesn't give me time to ask all these really annoying questions."   
  
"Fine." She reached over for her purse and put a ten on the table, then looked House in the eye. "You didn't fuck up." She was about to stand when House placed his hand over hers, keeping her still.   
  
She looked at House, and found him staring down at where his hand covered hers.   
  
"I'll keep the questions to myself, just stay and eat."   
  
The waiter decided to pick the perfect moment to come and place their order on the table in front of them.   
  
"Stay," he said again, gently squeezing her hand before letting it go and digging into his Reuben as if nothing had happened.   
  
He avoided her gaze, but watched as she slowly put her purse back to her side and picked up her own sandwich and took a bite. After he was satisfied that she was actually going to stay, he finally looked up to meet her eyes.   
  
"Happy now?" she asked teasingly, parrying his words from the last time they sat across from each other like this.   
  
House gave her a small smile.   
  
"Well I guess it's better than what Wilson gets now-a-days from you."   
  
Cameron put her hands down, sauerkraut spilling over onto her plate, and glared at House. "What do you mean by that?"   
  
House put his hands up in surrender. "I was just saying that apparently you got demoted from lunch buddy to coffee partner without any of the usual morning perks that come before the coffee."   
  
Cameron rolled her eyes. "He doesn't need me anymore."   
  
"So he needed you before?"   
  
"I guess you could call me his temp friend. I was really only there for him until he got you back." she said, popping a fry in her mouth.   
  
"Wilson apparently thinks rather highly of you. I even think he implied that you were a better friend than me."   
  
"I'm Wilson's friend, but .. "   
  
"But?" House asked, curiously.   
  
"I got to know Wilson, but Wilson still doesn't know me. Like I said, I was always just temporary. It's how I know you didn't screw up today, because whatever happened, I know he'll be able to forgive you… because there isn't any message waiting for me on my phone.   
  
"He didn't call his back-up." She shrugged before taking another bite of her Reuben.   
  
House frowned at her explanation. It made perfect sense and he could even applaud Wilson for being able to manipulate so effortlessly, but the fact that Cameron took it all in stride made him just a bit angry too.   
  
"Why do you do this?"   
  
"I'm aiming for sainthood before I hit fifty."   
  
"No. I mean, why do you let us both use you when you aren't getting anything out of it?"   
  
"Why do you risk your job for patients you don't even know?"   
  
"That's not the same."   
  
"Who says?" Cameron asked, wiping away the juice from her mouth with her napkin.   
  
Cameron and House just stared at each other. He didn't know why she cared so much. It was the one thing about her that he could never understand. The one piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit. Caring only led to getting hurt. That's why he only had one friend. Less likely to get hurt when you only have to keep up with one person. But looking into Cameron's eyes at that moment, he wanted her to know, that even if it was only for this moment, he cared too.   
  
"You do realize that I'm supposed to be the stubborn one here, right?" he asked, in an effort to break the spell.   
  
"Stubborn is putting it nicely."   
  
House just raised an eyebrow in amusement, and stole a few fries off of Cameron's plate.   
  
"So, what happened today, that you think might have upset Wilson?"   
  
"I really don't know. One minute we were talking and the next thing I know he just shriveled up on me." House said before making a face. "Okay, shriveled wasn't quite the word I was looking for.. "   
  
"Well, what did you say?" she asked slightly bemused.   
  
"I just asked him over for the game tomorrow."   
  
Cameron groaned.   
  
"What?"   
  
“You do know what tomorrow is right?”   
  
“It’s the twenty-ninth. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”   
  
"It’s the anniversary of their first date," she said.   
  
"And?"   
  
"And?"   
  
"And, why should that make him freak out? Figured he would want to get his mind off of it."   
  
"He should," she said, finishing off the last of her Rueben and pushing the rest of her fries towards House. "Don't ask him, just show up at his place tomorrow. He'll need his friend."   
  
"What if..."   
  
"You don't need me anymore. Just go and be with your friend tomorrow," Cameron said. She reached for her purse and put the strap on her shoulder.   
  
"Thank you... for dinner.” She smiled and stood up, pausing by his side before gently laying her hand on his shoulder. “I don't think I need to remind you... but.."   
  
"Yeah, yeah, you were never here."   
  
House just shook his head. He didn't need reminding. He didn't want the reminder, because he wanted to remember, but she was right. They didn't need her anymore. Maybe that was why he let her leave the bar. But as he rode home that night, he realized how much he would miss needing her.   
  
____   
  
The next night, House found himself outside Wilson's door with a six pack of beer and his cane knocking out a random tune against the wood, while sporadically pushing the door bell just to make sure Wilson got the message that he wasn't going away.   
  
When Wilson finally did open his door, House pushed past him into the room, shoving the beer in Wilson's hands.   
  
“Bout time,” House said, flopping down on his couch and turning on the TV.   
  
“House, I thought I told you yesterday...”   
  
“Sorry, wasn't listening... still not, just thought you should know before you put that in your fridge." He snatched a beer for himself as Wilson headed for the kitchen. "And grab yourself one while you're at it.”   
  
Wilson sighed. He knew House well enough to know that once the game started, there was no way he was going to leave until it was over. Maybe he should just give in and sit and wait the game out. And if House thought he was going to get his beer back after the night was over, he was severely mistaken.   
  
A few hours later, Wilson found himself a little more than tipsy, and smiled lazily at some inane crack House made about one of the players.   
  
House was smiling back. It had taken them both a long time to get back to this place, and they both knew that there were still going to be more bumps along the road in their friendship, but right now... in this moment, all that mattered, was that things were good. 


	5. Limping

**LIMPING**

 

It had to be one of the most ridiculous things House had ever seen. He came into his office to gather his things to leave for the day when he saw it. There, sitting on his desk at the beginning of March, was a present, wrapped in one of the most obnoxious Santa wrapping papers he'd ever seen, complete with green ribbon tied into a perfect little bow on the top.   
  
While limping over to grab his backpack, he quickly made a composite of all the people he thought would have been stupid enough to give him a gift. Clinic patient? Doubtful. Last patient? Definitely not. His lackeys, otherwise known as Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest, and on occasion Blackey? Possible, but unlikely. They'd want to be around to take credit. Unless they signed their name, which would be stupid, since they know he would mock them relentlessly. That only left Wilson.   
  
He grabbed his backpack from the corner of his office and brought it closer to his desk. Picking up the gift, he shook it, hearing only the lightest of sounds as he plopped down behind his desk chair. He had a feeling it was from Wilson, mainly because of the garish wrapping paper, but also because of all the pranks they'd been playing on each other lately. He didn't bother waiting as he ripped into the wrapping and opened the box. Moving the tissue paper aside, House's eyes widened, and he sucked in a shocked breath.   
  
“No... way.”   
  
House lightly fingered the plastic laminate. Inside laid two all-access passes to Bruce Springsteen.   
  
There was no way Wilson was cool enough to get his hands on something this good.   
  
House leaned down to rustle through the torn paper to see if he missed a note or any indication on who would have left the gift. Picking up the tickets, their lanyards dangling loosely from his fingers, House flipped over the box, the tissue floating slowly to the floor. It wasn't until he looked back inside that he saw it. Just two words written in a familiar script at the bottom of the box.   
  
'Take Wilson.'   
  
Looking down at the words, House found himself lightly caressing the plastic between his fingers, a small smile gracing his face. He couldn't help the little chuckle that came out when he thought of all the jokes he could now say, because apparently, this Friday night, he and Wilson had a date with the Boss.   
  
\--   
  
It had been about a week since House found Cameron's obnoxiously wrapped present on his desk, and to say that the concert was awesome would be the understatement of the century.   
  
Being on the side of the stage watching and listening to Bruce Springsteen rock it out for the crowd was a thing of beauty. And to top the night off with autographs and pictures with the Boss Man himself was just the cherry on top. It was a damn good show with pretty good company, and it ended on a high note when Wilson got so smashed off his rocker, he thought one of the crew guys was a woman. THAT was priceless.   
  
It would go down as one of the most memorable nights of his life. To have been able to share that with Wilson was just a bonus. All of which he had, thanks to Cameron.   
  
He knew he should do something for her in return. But more importantly, he WANTED to do something for her. He just wanted to make sure that when he did finally act, he could keep the smile off his face. He completely blamed it on the adrenaline and endorphins, and if no one believed him, then he'd just have to find a study about... about... oh screw it. He'd just lie and say he got a freebie from a hooker if anyone said anything.   
  
But now that he was able to keep his mood a bit more in check, he found himself leaning against her office door watching her finish off paper work at the end of her shift. She had already changed out of her scrubs. She looked as if she was resigned to finish her administrative duties for the day.   
  
He probably would never admit it to her, but he loved it when she had her glasses on, and the way the bridge of her nose crinkled up the slightest bit when she couldn't focus. It just made her seem so much more human and flawed, and he enjoyed that about her.   
  
When she looked up, she didn't seem surprised to see him, and gave him a small smile in greeting.   
  
"You know what I've been wondering this entire week?" House asked, settling further against the door frame.   
  
"No, but I'm sure you're about to enlighten me," Cameron said while taking off her glasses and putting all of her paperwork off to the side in a nice neat little pile.   
  
"How someone like you managed to get your hands on something most people would give their right arm and leg for.”   
  
“Well, as you can see, all limbs are still intact,” Cameron said, lifting both her hands for him to see.   
  
"Seriously, who did you sleep with? And what else can he get us, because I've been dying to meet Beyonce.”   
  
Cameron just smiled as he walked into her office and sat across from her.   
  
”Well?”   
  
"I know a guy who knows a guy," she replied, rolling her eyes.   
  
"I have a guy who knows a guy and even he wouldn't have been able to get his hands on those passes... even for himself," House volleyed back.   
  
"Well, I guess that just means my guy is better," she replied back cheekily, a smirk firmly planted on her face.   
  
House couldn't help the small smile from appearing on his face as well, not only from her reply, but simply by her smile. It was so damn smug, and he couldn't help but wonder how and when she had become so self-assured around him.   
  
He seemed to have missed a lot of things when it came to Cameron, and he couldn't stop the desire from wanting to find out more. Search for the things he had been missing all along.   
  
"You should introduce me to your guy," House said, trying not to let the silence linger too long, "since apparently mine is far inferior to yours."   
  
The tinkling of Cameron's laughter made House realize how much he had missed having her around. He had a feeling that it was mutual, thus the reason for the gift. Though why she would offer such an expensive gift was beyond his scope of comprehension. She was a mystery waiting to be solved, and he hated leaving things unsolved. She was kind, and gentle, and nice; but he was sure there was damage underneath it all. He just didn't know what it was, but he knew he wanted to be the one to unravel her.   
  
"So..." House started a bit hesitantly, "I figured I am now kinda in your debt and all, since you decided to get me such an extravagant gift, and thought maybe I could treat you to dinner tonight at McGinty's."   
  
God! How lame did that sound! Please don't ask if this is a date, cause it's not a date. And I seriously did not just think that... it's just...   
  
"It's Thursday," Cameron said, still smiling.   
  
"Yeah,” he said slowly, “and tomorrow is Friday, and the day after that is Saturday. I don't see how that should affect dinner."   
  
"I did warn you about Thursday's at McGinty's. There's singing. Mike singing. Bad singing," she explained.   
  
"Food. Music. Humiliation. Sounds fun."   
  
“You would think that. Okay, but I did warn you,” Cameron said, pointing her pen at him.   
  
"Pshht. It can't be that bad," House waved off. "What time do you think you'll be done?" He asked, nodding towards her endless pile of paperwork.   
  
Cameron sighed, and rolled away from her desk a bit. "Now. I'm not going to even think about touching another piece of paperwork this evening," Cameron replied, putting a stapler on top of the pile with a look of disgust.   
  
"Then what do you say we blow this joint?" House asked, nodding his head towards her door.   
  
Nodding, Cameron stood and grabbed her purse. Together, they made their way out of the hospital.   
  
\--   
  
As House sat across from Cameron, he couldn't help but observe her in such a relaxed state. The lighting of the bar wasn't really doing her justice; but he could still make out the pink tinge to her cheeks from the ride over, and her slightly tousled hair from when she removed his helmet. He had talked her into riding over with him on the bike. He told her it would be faster and easier to find parking, but in all honesty, he just wanted to feel her warm body pressed up against his back. It was more distracting than he would have thought. But observing her now, she somehow seemed lighter than the last time they sat opposite each other, something in her eyes, or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was him, seeing her from a whole new perspective. Either way, she was beautiful.   
  
He mentally shook himself from such thoughts and was grateful for the waiter's prompt appearance. One thing was for sure, he needed some type of liquor and soon. But before he could contemplate it any further, Cameron beat him to the punch.   
  
“Do you want to split a pitcher?”   
  
House drew his brows together. “I'm assuming you mean alcohol since I don't see Johan Santana on the menu. But hey, if you’re into that kind of thing...”   
  
“Ha, ha. Yes or no?”   
  
“Sure. But none of that lite shit. I'm a man. I want a real man's beer,” he said, puffing out his chest.   
  
Cameron just smiled and turned her attention toward the waiter, who had been waiting patiently throughout their exchange.   
  
“You ready to order, or do you need me to give you a few minutes?” the waiter asked, smiling gently at Cameron.   
  
“No. We're ready. We'll have a pitcher of Killians,” she said pausing, “If that's alright with you?” she directed at House.  
  
House simply nodded. Killians was good enough in his opinion.   
  
“.. and I would like the Turkey Cheddar Melt and fries,” she added, handing over her menu.   
  
“Bacon Burger, don't skimp on the bacon. No pickles. Medium rare. Fries, and lots of 'em,” House said, glaring at the waiter who was either looking at his pad, or stealing glances at an unsuspecting Cameron, whose attention was on him.   
  
“So, that's one Turkey Cheddar Melt with a side of fries, one Bacon Burger medium rare, no pickles, extra bacon, double fries, and a pitcher of Killians. Anything else?” the waiter asked, his attention back on Cameron.   
  
“Nope,” House said, picking up his menu and whacking it in the waiter's chest. “Thanks,” he added, with a fake smile plastered on his face. The waiter seemed to finally get the message to back off, as he nodded his head in House's direction.   
  
“I'll be right back with you're drinks,” he said, walking away.   
  
“Wow,” Cameron said blandly, staring at House.   
  
“What?” he asked, a bit unnerved by her gaze.   
  
“Do you think he got the message? Or were you hoping to have me come over and sit on your lap next?” she asked.   
  
“Well, since your offering...”   
  
“Ugh. I swear you can be such a … a...pig,” Cameron stuttered, trying to find the right word.   
  
“Oh that's rich. You were the one offering the lap dance. Besides, I was just trying to defend your honor. The guy was taking peeks down your top, and I'm the one that gets called the pig.”   
  
“Oh shut up. He was not.”   
  
“Trust me. He so was.”   
  
“Oh, and how would you know?” she countered.   
  
“Any straight male is going to take the opportunity to try and look down your shirt. Some are just better at it than others. Him,” he indicated the waiter who was making his way over to their table with a pitcher of beer and two mugs. “He's an amateur.”   
  
“Really?” Cameron asked dryly.   
  
“Oh yeah,” he said, as the waiter finally made it over and placed the pitcher down in front of the two, along with their glasses, then quickly departed. House immediately picked up the pitcher and began to pour.   
  
“So, if that's the case, then what color bra am I wearing?” Cameron asked with her arms crossed, as she leaned back in the booth.   
  
He finished pouring their beers and took a sip from his glass before responding.   
  
“Pale blue. But come on Cameron, no lace?” he said while looking her dead in the eyes.   
  
Cameron simply sat there for a second, trying to hold back a smile. “Sorry, but you're wrong,” she finally said, as she uncrossed her arms to reach for her beer.   
  
“Really?” House's eyes immediately went to her chest, and Cameron couldn't help the bubble of laughter that escaped.   
  
Taking a sip of her own beer, Cameron nodded. “It's light gray, and it does have lace.”   
  
“How the hell did I miss that?” he asked himself.   
  
“It's on the side. I doubt you'd be able to tell, unless I took my top off. And no I won't take it off,” she said, giving him a stern look.   
  
“Now see, there's where you're wrong,” he said, pausing for a second. “You don't have to take off your top, you only have to pop a few buttons.”   
  
“I don't think so,” Cameron chuckled.   
  
“Alright, but don't blame me when I try to look down your shirt,” he said in a mock serious tone. “It's all your fault now.”   
  
“Right,” Cameron snorted into her drink.   
  
They fell into a comfortable silence, both quietly drinking their beers. It was rare for House to feel this good in someone else's company. It wasn't that company was lacking. Hell, it wasn't uncommon for him to barge in and make himself at home in other people's spaces, but he never had the desire to stay long. That was, until now. In some way or another, Cameron and he kept barging into each others lives, and he found himself, for once, not having that impulse to run in the other direction. A part of him was still trying to fight and push down all of those feelings; but the part that realized that she made his day, well, less miserable, was just having a good time. Besides, he still had to find another opportunity to look down her shirt. He still couldn't believe he got that wrong.   
  
House took a rather generous gulp of his own beverage to try and stop his thoughts from running rampant in the Cameron shirtless variety, and looked back up in time to see Cameron whisper a soft, “shit” and shift down in her seat slightly while trying to hide herself behind her beer.   
  
He didn't even try to hide his amusement as he watched her eyes quickly glance over towards the bar and anywhere but. House being the curious creature he was, couldn't help but turn his head to look, completely ignoring her whispered hiss of, “don't.” While Cameron was glaring at the back of his skull, House just noticed an older man with thinning red hair being pointed in their direction. Before he could observe anything further, he felt a sharp pain in his shin from where Cameron swiftly kicked him under the table.   
  
“House,” she hissed.   
  
Leaning down to rub his shin, he replied, “First off, OW!”   
  
“Oh, I barely tapped you, you baby!”   
  
“And second,” he continued, “it's a little too late to try to blend in to the scenery. Also,” he paused as he looked back over towards the bar to see the man being dragged into the back by a woman, and giving Cameron the opportunity to hit him in his shin again.   
  
“Ow, damn it.”   
  
“Well, stop looking!” she said.   
  
“If you hadn't noticed, no one's coming over, so you're fine, besides, the guy it looks like you were trying to avoid got intercepted,” he explained, still rubbing his injured shin.   
  
“Oh!” she said surprised, sitting back up again.   
  
“Oh?”   
  
"Oh, um, sorry?”   
  
House rolled his eyes. “Of course you're sorry,” he said, and then smirked. “But you know, if you were really sorry...”   
  
“I'm not taking my top off.”   
  
“Then how about...”   
  
“No!”   
  
“You really know where to kick a man where it hurts, don't you?”   
  
It was then that the waiter came out with their food and placed their orders in front of them.   
  
"If I can get you anything else, just let me know.” the waiter said, nodding to both House and Cameron this time. However, Cameron caught his eyes lingering on her chest right before he turned to leave. She looked up just in time to see House take a huge bite of his sandwich with a knowing look in his eyes.   
  
“Told ya,” he said, his mouth full of food.   
  
Cameron huffed in reply and stuffed her mouth with fries, ignoring House.   
  
“Oh, that's very lady-like,” House said sarcastically, looking at Cameron who had one fry dangling from her mouth.   
  
She finished the majority of her fries before replying, “Oh shut up, besides, I'm very lady-like, I'm just... well, off the clock.”   
  
“So, is that why you won't sit on my lap?” he asked, smirking.   
  
Cameron threw a fry at his head and glared while House just smiled back.   
  
“So, what's the story?” he asked, after a few bites.   
  
“Huh?”   
  
“The cloak and dagger routine? Who was he?”   
  
“Oh, Mike McGinty,” she said, pouring more beer into both her and House's glasses. “And, he talks. Non-stop.” she continued, as if that explained everything.   
  
“So you decided to pretend you were a gecko rather than exchange a few pleasantries?” he asked in mock surprise.   
  
“The man, as sweet as he is, thinks he's a comedian; and neither you nor I have had enough to drink to deal with his humor. Especially me,” she added, as she tipped her glass back and finished a third of her beer.   
  
“So, no two Irishmen walking into a pub?” he asked, amused, before taking a bite of his burger.   
  
Cameron took a bite of her own sandwich before replying. “Not exactly. He's moved on to blond jokes.”   
  
House just laughed at Cameron's put-upon face.   
  
“What?” she huffed at his laughter.   
  
“Oh, come on Cameron. Have you no sense of humor? You're like a walking Barbie doll, of course the man's going to make fun of you. Hell, I do it all the time."   
  
"You've only said one thing about my hair, and it's not like that's any better," she said, touching her hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious.   
  
"Well, it's true. It does make you look like a hooker," he said, stuffing his face with fries.   
  
"So, what? I'm Hooker Barbie?"   
  
"No, no, much classier than that. You're Call Girl Barbie," he corrected, his mouth still full.   
  
She couldn't help but smile at his antics, though she tried to hide it.   
  
"You're just as bad as he is," she said with a nod of her head towards the bar.   
  
They took a few more bites of their food in silence, the noise of the restaurant growing slightly as more customers came in.   
  
"Wait," House said after a moment, looking into his burger.   
  
"What?"   
  
"You said that I was just as bad as he is," he said, looking up.   
  
"I'm not a hooker, House!" Cameron said, her voice raised a bit, catching the attention of customers nearby.   
  
House chuckled under his breath as Cameron's face turned pink from embarrassment.   
  
"Shame," House said, shaking his head.   
  
They continued to eat in silence for a while longer before House spoke again.   
  
"So, I've got to know, how did you get those passes? And don't tell me you know a guy. Everybody knows a guy, my grandmother knew a guy... which now that I think about it is kind of disturbing."   
  
Cameron laughed, glad for the distraction from her earlier embarrassment, only to dribble some of her Cheddar Melt down her shirt.   
  
"Smooth. Real smooth," House said, chuckling while bringing his own burger up to his mouth, only to have a rather large amount of sauce slide out and land on his jeans.   
  
Cameron threw a few napkins at him, laughing and dabbing at her shirt.   
  
"Smooth. Real smooth."   
  
"You started it!" House said petulantly, trying to clean the offending condiment from his jeans.   
  
Cameron snorted, rolling her eyes.   
  
“My brother,” Cameron said suddenly, giving up on her blouse and stealing some of House's fries.   
  
“What about him?” House asked confused, unconsciously pushing his plate forward for her to reach more easily.   
  
“That's how I got the passes. His best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's uncle does the lights for a lot of concerts and shows...or it's the boyfriend's brother's best friend's uncle, I'm not really sure. It's all very Ferris Bueller's Day Off. All I know is we get ticket to shows and passes every now and then. I rarely go though because of work, but..” Cameron explained with a shrug, popping House's last fry in her mouth.   
  
House lifted his brows in surprise.   
  
“So, I take it you enjoyed the show?”   
  
House gave her a small smirk in response. "It was okay."   
  
Cameron smiled knowingly.   
  
“I mean, dude, Springsteen," House started in a surfer-guy imitation. "He's like a rock legend. There's a reason they call him the Boss," he continued, a bit unnerved by her smile.   
  
He was beginning to like that smile more than he cared to admit. Maybe it wasn't so much her smile as her lips in general. He seemed to be fascinated by them quite a bit tonight, among other parts of her. The flush to her cheeks, the little catch in her breath when she laughed, the sparkle in her eyes when he said something she found both maddening and amusing, how her lips curled slightly at the edge and her brow drew downward. As the night drew on, he wanted to know more, like the taste of her skin beneath his lips, the contrast of the gray of her bra against the wood of his bedroom floor, the feel of her breast in his palm. It was all getting quite distracting, and all he was doing was looking at the woman smile for Christ's sake.   
  
He took a long pull of his beer, trying not to think about Cameron's lips.   
  
“What about Queen of the Supermarket?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.   
  
“A fluke,” he said, taking a pull from his drink. “So, when does the serenading start? I came for the atmosphere, and so far I'm terribly disappointed.”   
  
“Trust me, you don't want it. You see all those people at the bar getting trashed,” she gestured with her hand, “They're getting wasted for one of two reasons, either so they can tune out Mike or so they can drunkenly sing along with him. The result isn't something human ears were meant to hear.”   
  
House narrowed his eyes at her.   
  
“You brought me here under false pretenses. You told me it was a one-man show, not a sing-a-long.”   
  
“Just wait til one of them tries to get you to participate,” she laughed.   
  
“We gotta get out of here,” he said, looking around frantically for their waiter, and making Cameron laugh harder.   
  
“I did warn you.”   
  
“You're evil,” he said, getting out his wallet when he saw the waiter coming their way.   
  
“I know,” she snorted into her drink. “but you.. should have seen.. the look … on your face..” she said between breaths of laughter.   
  
House paid the check, smiling slightly to himself.   
  
“Let's blow this joint,” he said, nodding towards the exit and sliding out of the booth.   
  
“You sure you don't want to stay and sing?” Cameron asked, clearly amused, moving out of her own seat.   
  
“Let's go, smart-ass,” he said, tapping her on her rear as he followed Cameron out of the bar with a smile on his face.   
  
–   
  
The ride back to the hospital was shorter than House would have liked. It also took a lot more concentration with Cameron wrapped around him then it did on the way there. Apparently, talking about her breasts at dinner and thinking about her breasts in general was not conducive to safe driving.   
  
They were both a bit flushed when House parked the bike in a vacant spot across from Cameron's car. She dismounted from behind him, taking off his helmet and handing it back to him. He hung it on the handle bar and quickly dismounted after her, leaning casually against the bike's seat just looking at her. He was fascinated by her hair. It was slightly disheveled from the ride and his helmet, and he wondered if it would look the same way if it had been his fingers in her hair after kissing those enticing lips of hers.   
  
“Thanks for dinner,” Cameron smiled, ducking her head and making her hair fall forward.   
  
He shrugged, “I figured I owed you for the passes, but I guess I owe your brother instead... or your brother's girlfriend's gay uncle or whatever,” he said, rolling his eyes.   
  
“I'll be sure to relay you're thanks,” she laughed lightly, tucking her hair behind her ear.   
  
House snorted, and looked away, getting aggravated with himself. Whether it was because he wasn't the one to reach out and brush her hair away from her eyes or for thinking such thoughts to begin with, he wasn't quite sure. She had, over the months, became a confidante, like Wilson, albeit one he wouldn't mind having sex with; but it was more than that. It suddenly dawned on him that he wanted her to confide in him. It had been frustrating, constantly being the one to seek her out, and now that she had left that gift on his desk and reached out in her own way, saying she still cared, he was confused as hell. If she would make one more move, one gesture, then he'd be fine. He'd take a chance. But as it was, he was on the fence of indecision... Damn his fucked up emotions, and damn her tousled hair, and breasts and gray bra, and tempting lips.   
  
“You good to drive?” he asked after a moment.   
  
“Yeah. I'm good, thanks,” she said, digging out her keys. “Thanks again. Tonight was nice. Maybe, we can do this again sometime.”   
  
That counted, he thought with a smile. “Yeah, sounds good. Just not on Thursday's.”   
  
“Right. Not on Thursday's,” she parroted with a smile and a slight nod.   
  
Again, her hair fell into her face, and House found himself drawn to the errant strands. He stood, taking an uneven step closer to Cameron in the dimly lit parking lot. His hand reached up to brush the hair from her face, his eyes traveling the same path. He was mesmerized by how soft her skin was beneath the pads of his fingertips. His eyes were suddenly drawn to her lips, where she let out a small breath that he wanted to touch. He skimmed his thumb over her bottom lip, and thought about all the times he wanted to kiss her, tonight alone. His thoughts ran rampant; he withdrew his thumb from her lip, his gaze still on her mouth. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss her, but a part of him hesitated, and he hated that. His eyes flickered downward for a moment catching a glimpse of her cleavage before returning his gaze to the hand that remained on her cheek...   
  
“You just looked down my top, didn't you?” Cameron asked softly, a smile evident in her voice.   
  
House chuckled, and tucked her hair behind her ear before lowering his hand back to his side.   
  
“Can you blame me?” he asked, looking in her eyes.   
  
She smiled in reply, raised her hand to cup his cheek and lifted on her toes to press her lips against the rough stubble of his other cheek, lingering as House closed his eyes briefly at her touch.   
  
“Goodnight, House,” she whispered, pulling back and turning to walk to her car.   
  
"Goodnight, Cameron," he said softly to her retreating back, with a ghost of a smile on his face.   
  
It might have been easy to kiss Cameron earlier, but he realized he didn't want easy with Cameron. He wanted complex and complicated and difficult with her. He decided then, as he mounted his bike and watched her drive away, that he was willing to give it a try. Give her a try. Because he was finally starting to think maybe he was worth it.   
  
–   
  
Cameron finally entered her office about three hours later than she intended the next morning. She wanted to complete some of her monthly reports, along with finish up any other loose end paperwork she had floating about, but as soon as she entered the ER doors, all her plans went to hell, as accident victims from a four car pile-up came flooding through and she was needed. Unfortunately, the young man she was helping had passed. He had sustained too many internal injuries during the crash, and there was nothing they could do.   
  
She was exhausted: physically, mentally, and emotionally. So when she sat down behind her desk, trying to sum up the energy to finish at least the MSL report that Cuddy needed before tomorrow, it took her a moment to register that there was a plain t-shirt box sitting on top of her desk, with the most pathetic looking squashed green bow taped to its lid.   
  
Unwittingly, through her muddled mind, she thought of House and smiled softly. Last night had been... unexpected, on many levels. He had been... paperwork? she thought, a bit confused and irritated as she lifted the lid of the box.   
  
He gave me his damn paperwork? she thought, getting angrier and throwing the lid on the floor. She scoffed to herself when she noticed the small post-it note atop the few sheets. In his scrawl were the instructions 'Please sign and get back to me.'   
  
At least he used please, she thought, grabbing the papers and crumpling the post-it in her other hand. Taking a moment to look over what exactly House wanted, Cameron skimmed the page. It was an application form for full-time employment. Why would House give her such a thing? Both her confusion and ire battled it out as she further skimmed the document to see it was already mostly filled out in House's own hand.   
  
So far ire was winning, as she read her name and birth date glaring up at her from the page. If he seriously thought she was looking for another job, he had another thing coming to him.   
  
Just as quickly as the anger came, though it stopped, as she looked at what he filled out for the position she was applying for. There, in his own messed up way, he was leaving it up to her, because written down in his own hand was...   
  
'Gregory House's friend with promotional options'   
  
She smiled slightly and continued to read on, laughing when she came to what he wrote for her skills and qualifications. Apparently, having breasts and the ability to make coffee were very important qualifications according to House, along with a stubborn moral code, B&E, arguing, better handwriting, patience, a nice ass, smarts, and enough niceness that a Care Bear could asphyxiate on it.   
  
She continued to look through the form, smiling at the little touches House added or crossed out. Suddenly, her exhaustion from earlier didn't matter anymore. Looking down at the application, Cameron picked up her pen and began to tap it against the paper. A part of her didn't want to let go of the gift, but the greater part of her knew it would be worth it if she did.   
  
Scanning the papers one last time, she noticed that House had kept the hours of availability blank. She looked at the box for her position to the little availability squares and decided to keep them blank. She smiled slightly as she signed her application, and pulled out a sticky note of her own.   
  
–   
  
It was later that evening that House found himself seated behind his desk in his office, Cameron's returned and signed application form sitting on his desk next to his feet and her post-it note between his fingers. He looked down again at the post-it and smiled slightly. In her own feminine script was a short note informing him that she was free for dinner tomorrow at 7 to discuss her promotional options.   
  
He smiled again, before shaking his head and putting the note in his pocket. Sitting there, with his feet propped up, he realized, he had no idea what he was doing. But, he knew, after quite a bit of thinking, that it was something he wanted to do.   
  
Other than that, he was a bit lost.   
  
Maybe he should talk to Wilson, it had been awhile since he asked him for his advice...   
  
  
  
  
THE END.


End file.
